


The Rings of Munuth

by EclecticMuse, verbivore8642



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Sexual Situations, Crack, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Fuck Or Die, Gen, Humor, Jemma's POV, Loss of Virginity, Magic Made Them Do It, Magical Artifacts, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, PWP, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Sexual Content, Smut, Team Dynamics, Virginity, shag or die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8618233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/verbivore8642
Summary: An Asgardian 0-8-4 connects Fitz and Simmons on a level neither of them had ever dreamed of--and puts their bond of friendship to an unexpected test. Canon divergent AU set in season one between Yes Men and End of the Beginning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Suspend your disbelief at the door, folks, because this is some pretty shameless PWP.
> 
> This story came about because I (EclecticMuse) was playing Dragon Age, hit a specific point in the plot, and asked myself, "yes, but what if it was Fitzsimmons?" After many discussions with Verbivore, who is a ~~terrible~~ fantastic enabler, the idea transformed itself over time into this fic. So thanks, BioWare, this one's for you.
> 
> I did most of the heavy lifting as far as writing goes, but Verbivore was such an integral part of the process--coming up with the name, debating story details, going above and beyond as an excellent and thorough beta--that I felt she deserved some credit as well. A sous-writer, if you will.
> 
> Also I would like to clarify that despite the 'Fuck or Die' tag, this is NOT dub-con.

It all started with an explosion.

One moment, Jemma and Fitz were examining the 0-8-4 they’d been dispatched to retrieve, scanning it to determine how best to pack it up and return it to the Bus for further study. It had looked innocent enough, a battered metal cube approximately a foot square in size with what looked like faded runes etched into the sides. The next moment, however, the device had detonated, blowing them back from where they’d been kneeling next to it in a gust of vapor and sparks.

Jemma gasped, the breath knocked from her chest, but she didn’t have time to react. Something cold slithered around her wrist and an unseen force yanked her forward, stretching her arm out and forcing her onto her knees. Next to her, the same thing seemed to be happening to Fitz. They collided in the middle, crying out in surprise, and Jemma looked down to see that matching, thin metal bands had appeared on both their wrists. Whatever it was had drawn them together like magnets, and once the metal connected, both bands glowed white-hot for a few seconds before winking out. Then, nothing.

“Stay back!” Ward yelled, throwing out an arm to keep Skye from rushing forward in concern. “Fitz, Simmons--report. You guys okay?”

Fitz grunted, shifting to sit up properly from where he’d been pulled against Jemma’s side. “Yeah,” he called out tightly. “I’m--I’m fine.” Then he looked at her. “Simmons?” he asked, quieter, his eyebrows drawing in with worry.

She swallowed, holding her wrist up to look at the metal band wrapped tightly around it. “I’m...fine, physically. But _this_ \--” She nodded at the band. “This is worrisome, we don’t know what--”

“Don’t touch it,” Fitz cut in, reaching over to stop her. A band still shone dully on his own wrist, too, she noted. “Just to be safe. Here, I’ll get Doc to scan it first.” He stretched to grab the tablet he had dropped when they’d been knocked back, brushing dirt off the screen as he picked it back up.

“What the hell happened?” Jemma looked up to see Coulson approaching quickly from the direction of their cars, May on his heels. “We heard a bang, and then we saw smoke. I didn’t think this thing was a _bomb_.”

“We don’t know,” Skye said, her eyes still wide. “FitzSimmons were doing their thing, and it just--” She waved her hands, miming an explosion. “It just blew.”  Pushing Ward’s arm down, she took a step forward. “Are you sure you guys are okay?”

Coulson and May came to a stop next to Ward. “Status report,” Coulson ordered.

Jemma looked at Fitz, who was focused on his tablet and the data that Doc was sending back, busily scanning the bands on their wrists. Then she looked over at the 0-8-4, lying a few feet away half-buried in the dirt, still smoking. It had come to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s attention through the local authorities: a farmer had discovered it while tilling a plot of land in preparation for planting. Their scans hadn’t turned up anything dangerous or alarming, just that it was made of an alloy foreign to Earth and wasn’t solid all the way through. Determining it was safe to pick up, Jemma--still wearing gloves--had stepped forward to do so, in order to pack it up for transport. It was only when she’d touched it that it had exploded.

Now it lay open, the sides of the cube having fallen away to reveal a metal orb suspended in the air, spinning slowly while a glowing white line snaked in loops around its surface.

“None of our scans showed anything unusual,” Jemma said, looking up at Coulson. “Nothing that indicated it was an immediate threat. But when I touched it, it--activated somehow.”

“Doc still isn’t picking up anything,” Fitz muttered before pushing himself back up to his feet. Then he held out a hand to help Jemma up as well. “I saw a spike in the electromagnetic readings right before the blast knocked the tablet out of my hand, but it’s gone now. Other than that...nothing.”

Next to Ward, Skye frowned. “Really?” Her gaze lingered on their wrists. “Nothing on your snazzy new bracelets, even?”

Jemma looked back down at the band on her wrist, frowning uneasily. “I haven’t _felt_ any physical effects or changes. Fitz?”

He shook his head, his focus still on Doc’s data, but the way his eyebrows were drawn together coupled with the way he kept going through the scans belied his own worry. Jemma inhaled before turning back toward Coulson.

“If it’s all the same, sir, I’d like to get Fitz and I back and quarantined in the lab as soon as possible,” she said. “We’ll know more once we have access to the rest of our equipment.”

“Understood,” Coulson replied, nodding grimly. “And agreed. Alright, move out.” Although her boss seemed as unruffled as ever, Jemma thought she heard an unnatural thinness to his tone.

The ride back to the plane, while brief, was quiet and tense. Fitz and Jemma had loaded the 0-8-4 into a padded container and set it in the back of the SUV under the stricture that they be the only ones to touch it, since they were already compromised. May drove the SUV while Ward took shotgun, sending them concerned glances in the rearview mirror when he thought they weren’t looking. Coulson and Skye rode back in Lola.

As they drove, fields and the occasional farmhouse bumping along outside their windows, Jemma inspected the band now affixed to her wrist. It seemed to be made of the same metal alloy as the box, and fit snugly against her skin. She doubted she could get a pin underneath it. It didn’t feel constricting, though, or like it was cutting off her circulation. It was warm to the touch as well, and ringed with a line of faint runes just like the ones decorating the outside of the box. The band _looked_ harmless, but Jemma couldn’t shake a pervasive feeling of dread as she looked at it. The sooner they got back to the Bus and could run their tests, the better.

Once they arrived, the others gave Fitz and Jemma a wide berth as they took the container holding the 0-8-4 into the lab and sealed the door behind them. Ward went upstairs to prepare the BUS for takeoff, and Coulson and Skye hovered by the lab windows, watching as they unpacked the 0-8-4 onto one of the benches. The sphere inside the box continued to spin, though Jemma noted that the glowing line had shortened in length ever so slightly in the time it had taken them to reach the Bus.

Stepping past where Fitz was undoing the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, Jemma faced Coulson and clasped her hands in front of her. “Sir, upon closer inspection, the runes decorating the 0-8-4 and the wristbands look quite similar to the ones on the Berserker staff,” she said.

“You think they’re Asgardian,” he mused, and she nodded.

“Perhaps. Do we have new contact information for Professor Randolph?”

“Yeah, SHIELD’s been having him tailed. I’ll get someone to pull him in, or put his ear to a phone. Good thinking, Simmons.” He turned to Skye. “Skye, you’re with me. Fitz, Simmons, get a 3D scan of those runes to send along, too.”

Everyone nodded and turned to get to work, but before they could move, something like a low-level sonic boom sounded, rattling the Bus where it stood. Jemma put out a hand to steady herself against the closest bench, looking across to Fitz in alarm. He looked back at her, eyes wide.

“What was _that_?” Skye said, clinging to the rail of the spiral staircase.

Coulson looked toward the open cargo bay door. “It came from outside the Bus.”

May, who had been securing the SUV for the flight, straightened up. “I’ll check it out.” She turned and strode swiftly down the ramp.

As Jemma went to go pull their portable 3D scanner from storage--no sense in standing around doing nothing while they waited--she heard the door at the top of the stairs open, followed by boots clanking down them.

“What was that?” Ward asked, coming into view. Skye stepped off the stairs to let him pass.

“No clue,” Coulson replied, “but May’s checking it out.”

Ward frowned, looking toward the ramp. “Does she need backup, or…?”

“None needed.”

They all looked up to see May returning, with none other than Lady Sif in tow. She looked exactly the same as she had when they’d last seen her, not so very long ago--clad in her customary armor, sword and shield strapped to her back, her face set with purpose.

“Lady Sif,” Coulson said warmly, taking a step forward. “What a coincidence, we’re actually in the market for some Asgardian expertise right now.”

“I do not believe it is a coincidence that has our paths crossing, Son of Coul,” Sif said as she came to a stop in front of him.

Coulson’s mouth twitched as he fought a smile. “It’s just Coulson, but yeah, okay.”

Sif nodded once. “Agent May tells me that your team has just returned from retrieving an unfamiliar artifact,” she continued. “We lost several relics when Malekith opened the portals into this world, and with Lorelei once again safely imprisoned, I have been tasked with tracking them down. I suspect the object you recovered is one of the relics I seek. May I see it?”

“Yes--” Coulson turned to point into the lab; Sif followed his line of sight, and inside, Fitz stepped away from the bench so he wasn’t blocking her view. When her gaze fell on the spinning orb, her expression tightened.

“It has been activated,” she said, lifting a hand to press against the glass door. Then her eyes tracked to the bands clearly visible on both Jemma’s and Fitz’s wrists. “And it has chosen its victims.”

Jemma exchanged a troubled look with Fitz, taking a minute, instinctive step towards him. _Victims_? That sounded ominous.

“You know what it is?” Coulson asked.

Sif nodded again. “It is the Rings of Munuth, a contraption created by Loki to entertain some of his more perverse amusements.”

Coulson exhaled. “ _Loki_. Just what we needed. It’s not going to kill them, is it?”

“No.” She glanced back at them. “Not unless they copulate within the next standard day.”

“What?!” Jemma cried, her mouth dropping open in shock. Next to her, Fitz broke into an explosive coughing fit, nearly doubling over at the waist, and everyone else made noises of shock and confusion.

“Presumably one of Midgardian length,” Sif continued, almost to herself, “although as it has never been used off of Asgard, I cannot be certain.”

Jemma couldn’t believe her ears. Surely she’d misheard--she couldn’t possibly have said--it was _impossible_...

Skye recovered first. “Okay, wait,” she said, putting out a hand towards the Asgardian. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying they have to, uh, get to know each other Biblically? In the conjugal way?”

Sif frowned. “If that is a childish Midgardian euphemism for the act of sexual intercourse, then yes,” she replied.

“ _No_.” Fitz’s face was tomato red as he wheezed, pounding a fist against his chest. “There is no way I’m having sex with Simmons, absolutely not.”

The look Sif turned on him was severe. “Then you will die.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as they processed Sif’s words, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Jemma’s mind was buzzing with questions, wanting clarification, but she wasn’t sure where to start. The idea of a device that forced the wearer to have sex or die was utterly preposterous, but Sif did not look like she was joking in the least, and Jemma knew she wasn’t prone to deceit to begin with. Therefore, she had to be telling the truth.

Coulson broke the silence by raising his hands. “Time out,” he said, shaking his head. “Back up. How does this thing even work, how can it--do that?”

“The Rings are simple in their objective,” Sif explained. “It can only be activated when touched by a virgin. Once that happens, the Rings attach themselves to the bodies of both the virgin who touched the Ring and that of the closest person of the opposite gender who is also a virgin. It forces them to either surrender their virginity, or the male dies.”

“You’re kidding,” Ward said flatly.

Sif simply shook her head. “I am not.”

Skye let out a small scoff and crossed her arms. “Offensively heteronormative _and_ virgin-shaming in one go. Way to be, Loki.”

Jemma fought the urge to squirm as everyone stared at her and Fitz. She was keenly aware that Fitz’s face had gone red again, and that this time it wasn’t from a lack of breath. His sexual inexperience wasn’t a surprise to her; he’d never dated, not once in all the years she’d known him, and she felt slightly indignant at the judgment in their team’s eyes and the embarrassment she could feel rolling off of him in waves. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and neither did she, for that matter. Virginity was just a social construct designed to oppress, anyway.

It was the disbelief on Skye’s face that rankled her the most, however. “Hang on,” her friend said suddenly, pointing a finger in her direction. “There’s no way Simmons is a virgin. You told me you had boyfriends!”

Feeling a rush of irritation wash through her, Jemma defensively squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I suppose it depends on what your definition of a virgin is,” she said primly, trying to ignore the way Fitz was now openly staring at her. “Not that it is anyone’s business but my own, thank you very much.”

Skye placatingly held up her hands. “Okay, fine, gotcha.” She took a step toward the glass, lowering her voice. “I’m just--I still have trouble believing that you two have never done anything together,” she said, gesturing between Jemma and Fitz.

This time, it was Fitz’s hackles that got raised. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“Sorry!” Skye made a face. “It’s just, you two are really close, you’ve known each other for years, you’re both reasonably attractive people--”

“Oh, _thanks_ ,” Fitz snapped.

“--And you can’t tell me that you haven’t gotten super drunk together at _least_ once, y’know? Don’t tell me you haven’t at least _thought_ about it.”

“No,” Jemma replied shortly, just as Fitz said, “Never have.”

Skye shrugged expressively. “I’m just saying, other people probably would have banged by now.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “You _do_ know it’s possible for two people of different genders to be friends without ever experiencing sexual attraction towards each other, don’t you? _When Harry Met Sally_ is hogwash--”

“Guys!” Coulson held up his hands again, looking pained. “Can we focus? We don’t need the whole sordid history of FitzSimmons’ love life, or, uh--” He blanched. “The lack thereof.”

“Tell us more about the Rings,” May said to Sif, clearly trying to get them all back on track. “Why does it only kill the male? And is there any way around it, a way to remove the bands without forcing them to sleep together?”

Sif looked thoughtful. “It is unknown why Loki chose only the male to risk losing his life, except that perhaps the unbalanced stakes served as yet another source of amusement. His motivations can be unclear at times. And there is no way to fool or trick the Rings. Once it is secured, the only way to remove it is through copulation.”

Jemma squeezed her hands into fists. “How does it...kill, if sex is refused? Maybe there could be a way to prevent that.”

“There is not.” Sif almost looked apologetic. “At the end of one standard day, if the Rings’ desire has not been fulfilled, it will consume the life force of the male.”  

“ _Consume the life force_ ,” Fitz repeated with thinly-veiled skepticism, drawing a circle in the air with one finger. “Can you be a little more specific? Our scans turned up nothing to indicate it’s anything more than just a metal bracelet, so I fail to understand how it could just--kill me.”

Sir shook her head. “It is highly complex Asgardian magic. Loki is a skilled sorcerer. There is no way to cheat the Rings on Asgard, so I doubt there is a way to circumvent it using Midgardian methods.”

Fitz scoffed, muttering under his breath about how magic was just science they had yet to understand, but his expression was disturbed. Jemma felt it, too; the idea that the band on his wrist could easily kill him was not a thought she wanted to entertain, and suddenly her mood threatened to switch from apprehensive and outraged to downright afraid. She suppressed an abrupt urge to attempt to claw the thing right off of him.

Desperate to retreat to familiar territory of any kind, she returned to the refuge of science and facts. If they learned everything there was to know about the Ring, there had to be a way to outwit it, Asgardian magic or not.

“Tell me,” she said, taking a step forward and willing her cheeks not to flush, “if the Ring is so particular in its definition of a virgin, does it require a certain type of--of sex act? Or does it not matter?”

A loud spluttering noise sounded to her left, and in her peripheral vision she could see Fitz staring at her in sheer horror. Standing stock still and having not moved in an uncomfortably long time, Coulson looked like he wished he were anywhere else. Skye’s face had morphed into a mask of morbid fascination, as if she knew the subject matter was terrible but couldn’t bring herself to turn away. Ward and May, however, seemed to be listening with complete seriousness.

“Simmons!” Fitz hissed. “You don’t _actually_ think we’re going to have to--I mean--because I am _not_ , I’m not going to-- _we’re_ not going to-- _do that_ , it’s not an option--”

Brushing aside a small plume of confused hurt at the thought that Fitz found her so undesirable he was nearly turning purple, she rolled her eyes. “No, Fitz, of course not!” she shot back. “But in order to understand the Rings and find a way out of this, we need to gather all of the information and facts possible.”

Fitz folded his arms and looked away, thoroughly grumpy and put out, but she ignored him in favor of turning back to Sif. “So,” Jemma continued, “what exactly does it require?”

“By all accounts,” Sif replied, “the Rings deactivate only when both partners…”  She trailed off, frowning. “What is the Midgardian term for _koma_? To come?”

“Orgasm,” May said drily, and, standing behind her, Ward looked vaguely like he needed a hard drink. “Or climax.”

“ _That_ is it,” Sif said, voice somewhat too excited for the subject matter. “Climax is the right term. Yes, both partners must climax, together.”

Skye looked on the verge of saying something, but instead bit her lip and looked down.

“I see,” Jemma said, her eyes lingering on Skye. _Keep it clinical. You can do this. All you’re doing is asking for clarification._ “So...it has to be intercourse, then? Or would mutual masturbation work?”

“Oh my god,” Fitz muttered, covering his eyes with one hand.

The corner of Sif’s mouth twitched. “It is my understanding that the two participants must be joined.”

Jemma nodded. “And would contraceptives deter the Rings from--detecting that joining?”

Fitz pressed both hands to his face, making a soft, aggrieved noise. Next to Sif, Coulson shifted his weight from one foot to the other, crossing his arms and looking supremely uncomfortable. May nodded in approval, though, and Jemma took heart from that.

“I do not know,” Sif replied. “You could try, and if that does not satisfy the Rings you could...try again.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said, smiling thinly. Then she took in a deep breath and clasped her hands in front of her. “Right. Agent Coulson, sir?”

He jumped slightly, as though startled out of deep thought or a daydream in which he were sipping mai-tais on a beach rather than standing in the mobile lab, and looked up at her. “Yes?”

“I think it’s time for Fitz and I to explore our options,” she said, deliberately leaving her terminology vague. She looked askance at the spinning sphere, and the glowing white line snaking around it. “If Lady Sif is correct and we have one day, then there’s still quite some time left. Perhaps there is a way to remove the Rings manually.”

Coulson raised an eyebrow. “You really think you can find a way around Asgardian magic?”

Jemma straightened her shoulders. “Yes,” she said firmly.

He sighed, then shook his head. “Great. Get started. Lady Sif, you said you were tracking down multiple objects?”

“Yes,” she said, her gaze lingering on Fitz and Jemma before turning fully to Coulson.

“Let’s see if we can lend a hand with that. S.H.I.E.L.D. might have more reports of unknown objects popping up. We can give ‘em a call upstairs. ” Coulson made a vague gesture in the direction of the others before turning towards the staircase. “Everybody else, clear out so FitzSimmons can get to work.”

Ward nodded, shooting them a pensive look before stalking up the stairs, Sif and Coulson close on his heels. Skye hovered, clearly looking like she wanted to stay for a moment to talk to them, but a passing glare from May had her ducking her head and meekly preceding the other woman up the stairs.

In a matter of seconds, the door to the main cabin of the Bus shut, the metal clang echoing through the lab below. Despite them having been best friends for nearly a decade, Jemma felt oddly like leagues of space separated her and Fitz at that moment, the silence in their shared workspace feeling unnatural and thick. When she glanced over at him, he was studiously not looking at her, instead staring down at the finger he trailed along the edge of his own bronze band.

“Well,” she said after a moment, her voice sounding falsely bright, “let’s get started, shall we? We don’t have any time to waste.”

She turned to head for her side of the lab, intent on pulling together some solvents and chemical compounds that could possibly work through the metal of the Rings without simultaneously dissolving their skin, muscle, and bone. Behind her, she heard Fitz sigh, and when she glanced back at him he’d crossed his arms.

“You don’t... _really_ think it will come to all of that, do you?” he asked quietly, face troubled. “Death, or, uh--sex.”

Jemma paused in the midst of pulling on some gloves. “I believed her when she said it could kill you--”

“Great--”

“--But I believe there’s a solid scientific explanation behind all of it that will provide us with an alternative. Don’t worry, Fitz. We’ll sort it.”

“Right.” But he looked doubtful as his eyes dropped back down to the band again, and Jemma couldn’t deny the worry that hovered beneath her feigned calm.

Her anxiety only got worse as they worked. No substances that Jemma came up with had any effect on the metal of the Rings, and Fitz wasn’t willing to risk using any type of cutting blade or laser device since they fit so snugly against their skin. Skye had even found and then contacted Professor Randolph, but none of the information he sent brought them any closer to a solution. Feeling frustrated but still unwilling to accept the alternative, Jemma pushed away from her latest failed batch of solvents and pulled off her gloves, dropping them into the waste bin.

Seeing Fitz fully engrossed in reading on his tablet, she decided to check his progress. “Find something interesting?” she asked, coming up behind him. “Did Professor Randolph--”

Fitz jumped at the sound of her voice, startled, and tried to hide the screen of his tablet from her, but it was too late--she’d already caught a glimpse of the article he’d been reading. She felt the tips of her ears start to burn.

_\--dart your tongue around her hole, teasing her around the opening of her vagina before slipping it inside. This will excite--_

“ _Fitz_!” she shrieked, scandalized. “What are you--you--you’re supposed to be _researching_ , trying to figure a way out of this, not--not reading-- _that_!”

Fitz scrambled off of his stool, clutching his tablet to his chest, and took two large steps away from her. “Hey!” he snapped, looking both defensive and mortified. “You’re the one always going on about how bloody important it is to be prepared, so, I’m--I’m _preparing_!”

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “You shouldn’t bother, because we’re _not_ going to have sex,” she said, annoyed.

“Oh?” he shot back testily. “Had any more brilliant ideas, have you? I see your latest batch of chemicals has failed, so forgive me for stopping to actually consider the ruddy nuclear option!”

“Ugh, Fitz!” She threw her hands up. “Maybe if you weren’t wasting your time reading nonsense, you’d have had a breakthrough yourself by now!” She spun back toward her bench, fuming and more than a little embarrassed, but she hadn’t taken two steps before the wind went out of her sails. It wasn’t right to get upset with Fitz; after all, he was only making sure he had all the available data he needed himself, the same way she had with Sif earlier.

And, a small part of her thought, it was almost...sweet, in an odd way, that he was bothering to do research on _that_ particular activity at all. Her best friend had always been rather more considerate than most men… Then she scrunched up her nose and gave her head a sharp shake. Today was absolutely, definitely, positively the strangest day of her life--and, having spent all of her adult life as a S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist, that was saying something.

She sighed. “Let’s not argue, Fitz,” she said quietly, before she turned back to him. He was still standing where she’d left him, his head bowed, brows furrowed. “It won’t help either of us.”

He swallowed. “No, yeah,” he mumbled. “I know. It’s just, this whole thing…” He lifted his arm, half-heartedly gesturing at the Ring.

“I know,” she said. “It’s very...stressful.” Fitz’s life was on the line, which already had her on high alert, and then there was the subject of possible unavoidable sex with her best friend, which she had firmly been avoiding thinking about.

Fitz gestured lightly with his tablet. “Look--I’ll take another look at what Professor Randolph sent us, and see if I can...I’ll sort something out.”

“And I have a few more ideas I haven’t tried yet,” Jemma said, with an optimism that she really didn’t feel.

Two hours later, Jemma felt like she was suffering from potentially the world’s most humiliating sense of deja vu. Yet again, they were both sitting stock still at their workstations, and yet again, neither of their experiments or theories had succeeded.

“We have to sleep together,” Jemma said dully, trying to sound neutral about the idea, but her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.

For once, Fitz didn’t argue, instead sitting in stunned silence and staring anywhere other than at her. Their lab was normally such a place of buzzing activity and excitement that their own mutual stillness stood out in Jemma’s mind as the very epitome of their current failure to do as she’d promised Coulson. Fitz withdrew into himself, crossing his arms and hunching his shoulders, while she curled over her knees, one hand rubbing absently at her forehead.

It wasn't that the idea of sex was repulsive to her, or that she was afraid of it--it was the matter of her partner being Fitz. They’d known each other for nearly ten years and had never even once approached the boundary between friends and lovers; it had simply never occurred to them. She and Fitz were _friends_. Nothing more.

Then there was the manner in which it had to happen: not under duress, exactly, but not of her or Fitz’s own choosing, either. That was the part that galled her the most, that the Rings were forcing them into a situation neither of them had asked for or wanted, and leaving them no choice but to accede.

The image of what Fitz’s face might be like during orgasm popped into her head, and she resisted the urge to let out a strangled giggle and drop her face into her hands. It was just _bizarre_ to think of Fitz doing something like that--wasn’t it? That should be how best friends treated the idea of either one of them having sex; discomfort, not curiosity. And she was decidedly not curious about what Fitz would be like in the bedroom. At all.

But they could weather this, couldn’t they? They already understood each other so well, and knew that Fitz’s life hung in the balance. Besides, they were scientists. Surely they could just get on with it, if they knew they had a specific goal in mind. Their orgasms would be the execution of a particularly unusual experiment. Nothing had to change between them. They would just…have a bit more knowledge of each other than they had ever anticipated.

“It’s just sex,” Jemma said after some time, in the hopes of convincing both of them. But her voice was weak and unsure.

Again, Fitz said nothing, his eyes trained on the floor.

“It’s just a biological need. People do it all the time without it meaning anything,” she continued. “It doesn’t have to mean anything for us. Except for, of course--” She swallowed. “Saving your life.”

Fitz reached up to rub a finger along the side of his nose, but still didn’t speak. Jemma frowned. His silence and stillness was making her even more anxious; she was desperate to know what he was thinking, for any insight into his frame of mind. She bit her lip before pasting on the best smile she could.

“And really, in a way it’s kind of nice knowing that it’ll be you for my first time-- _our_ first time.” She was rambling and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop--she’d do anything to fill up the vacuum of silence and discomfort and deep-seated doubt. “Because I’m already so comfortable with you, and I trust you, and I know I won’t have to worry about--well, anything. And that takes away a large part of the uncertainty, the awkwardness, doesn’t it?”

If anything, Fitz’s mouth managed to press into an even thinner line.

Jemma fought the sudden urge to reach out and shake him. Was the idea of sex, or sex with her, so repulsive that his higher brain function had simply shut down? “Fitz? Say something. Please.”

Finally, he inhaled slowly. “Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s just...just sex.” He looked up and gave her a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s the only thing left to do, yeah? Sif was right.”

The thought struck Jemma that perhaps Fitz’s discomfort had nothing to do with her at all, but with the act of having sex itself. She shifted in her seat to face him more directly.

“Fitz,” she said carefully, “I realize this is a deeply personal question, but...are you--gay? Or asexual, even?”

He tilted his head sharply, his face scrunching up in confusion. “What?”

She bit her lip, trying to push forward. “It’s just--you seem very... _averse_ to the idea of sex, and I was just wondering if perhaps it--it stemmed from that. As a...preference sort of thing.”

Fitz stared at her for a long moment, before shaking his head and looking back down. “No, it’s...it’s not that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not either of those. It’s because...well, this is not exactly how I imagined my day going.”

Jemma couldn’t help but huff a tiny, hollow laugh. “Me neither.”

He smiled thinly before it faded, his expression turning morose again. Her heart sank a little at the discomfort clear on his face. She wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand and reassure him, perhaps offer to talk things through if necessary, but anything she might have done was interrupted by the sound of shoes on the stairs and Skye’s voice calling out to them.

“Hey guys, Coulson sent me to check up on--woah.” Skye stopped at the bottom of the stairs, her face screwing up in concern as she took in their wooden posture and downcast faces. “What’s wrong? Are you guys okay?”

Jemma chanced a look at Fitz before speaking. “I think we had better call a meeting,” she said uneasily.

It didn’t take long to get the team back downstairs and gathered at the front of the lab. Now that they knew no one else was at risk of being affected by the Rings, they had opened the lab doors to let the others in. Fitz stood stiffly beside her as everyone took their place, and Jemma threw him a small smile of reassurance.

Once everyone was assembled, Jemma nodded and fixed her professional smile in place. “As you can see, we were unable to find another way to remove the Rings,” she said, holding up her arm to show that the band was still very much in place. “So, after some discussion, we have, ah...decided to move ahead on to Lady Sif’s option.”

Sif looked unsurprised, but Skye blinked and her mouth dropped open. “So--wait--you guys are actually gonna do it? Like _do it_ -do it? For real?”

Coulson frowned at her before turning to the two of them. “Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. “There’s really nothing else…you can do?”

“If you have any great ideas, I’m all ears,” Fitz muttered, but Sif shook her head.

“It is the only safe way to remove the Rings,” she said solemnly. “And for what it is worth, I am sorry. It may be only a small comfort, but you are much luckier than previous victims.” When Jemma gave her an automatic and skeptical look, Lady Sif just arched one eyebrow at her. “You were already partners before the Rings found you, yes?”

“Fair point,” Skye muttered, although none of them looked exactly relieved by Sif’s words. She was, perhaps, rather lacking in bedside manner.

For a moment, the team simply looked at them, expressions twisted into varying degrees of dismay and discomfort. Finally, with a false air of brusqueness that came off as rather more helpless than he normally was, Coulson said, “I trust you two to do what needs to be done. But there’s...not really a precedent for this sort of thing.”

“There _are_ certain precautions in place to protect agents out in the field, as I’m sure you’re aware,” Jemma said. She gave herself a few seconds to steel herself for what would definitely be the most uncomfortable supply request she’d ever had to make in the entirety of her time at S.H.I.E.L.D. “But, um...there _is_ the matter of condoms. They weren’t required on the inventory list for the Bus so there aren’t any in the supply room. I’m afraid we’ll need to get some before...before...”

“ _That’s_ gonna be an awkward drugstore run,” Skye said under her breath, wincing.

“No, it won’t,” May said abruptly. “I keep a box in my bunk at all times. I can go leave it in yours, Fitz.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned to climb the stairs. Skye watched her go with wide eyes, questions written all over her face, and even Fitz couldn't hide his surprise.

“Okay then,” Coulson said, his eyebrows raised. “That’s…all set. So.” He sucked in a breath, looking very much like a father reluctant to give his children the birds and the bees talk. “I think what we’re going to do is clear out of here for a while, give you guys some privacy. We’ve got some leads on low-priority 0-8-4s nearby that we can track down, and that should give you plenty of time to, uh…” He gestured vaguely at them. “Yeah.”

Jemma nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak, and looked askance at Fitz. He’d crossed his arms again and returned to staring into the middle distance.

Coulson smiled tightly. “Alright, gang. Grab anything you need and move out. Call us if you need to, FitzSimmons.” May appeared on the stairs again as everyone turned to the SUV.

As the others moved along, Skye lingered by the lab’s glass door, fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves.

“Good luck?” she said, sounding worried, and gave them an awkward thumbs-up before turning and hurrying after Ward and May to the SUV. Standing side by side, as they always did, Jemma and Fitz watched as the vehicle roared to life, then backed down the ramp, exited the Bus, and drove away.

Silence descended upon the lab again, but now, without anything or anyone else to focus on as a distraction--and knowing what they had been left alone to do--Jemma was finding it hard to look at Fitz. When she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, he was standing very still, arms still crossed, teeth worrying his bottom lip. But there was no sense in dithering around. They were on a timer, after all, and the longer they waited, the less time they had.

“Right,” she said, immediately hating how high and reedy her voice sounded. “We should probably go upstairs.”

She started for the stairs without looking to see if Fitz had followed, but when she heard the sound of his footsteps, something inside her relaxed slightly. But only just. Walking through the Bus to Fitz’s bunk felt a little like she was walking to her own execution, and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling, no matter how silly she told herself she was being. But the fact of the matter was, she was _angry._

Jemma had always liked control--over her life, her decisions, her autonomy. She hated that the Rings had taken away that control and put her at its whim, and she hated feeling helpless, that she’d failed to find a workaround. She seemed to have a knack for running afoul of alien objects now, and she hated that too. She hated being defenseless. Most of all, she hated that Fitz had been dragged into it with her.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they reached Fitz’s bunk, she was shaking with all the pent-up emotion she held inside, her hands twisting anxiously at her sides. She immediately walked to the far side of the bunk, facing the wall, and didn’t turn around when she heard the door quietly snick shut. Suddenly, her breath sounded too loud to her ears.

“Simmons?” Fitz asked from behind her, quiet and unsure.

It took her a moment to find the words. “It’s just, this is the second time some alien _thing_ has--has taken away my choice,” she said bitterly, turning to face him but keeping her head down. “I mean, has _made_ me do something. The last time, I had to…jump from a bloody airplane, and I’m...I don’t know,” she continued, hating the panic in her voice and wishing she had to words to express the anger and frustration and bizarre sadness she felt. “I knew going into the field would be dangerous, I knew that, but I honestly didn’t think it would come to things like _this_ \--”

“You _do_ have a choice,” Fitz interrupted.

Jemma huffed and turned her face away. “Don’t be silly, no I don’t. _We_ don’t, for God’s sake. You’ll die if we don’t do this.”

“No, I know. Jemma--”

Her head came up at the use of her first name, staring at him in surprise. He’d always called her Simmons, always, never Jemma, even when she’d introduced herself as such when they’d met at the Academy. His switch, coupled with the sincerity of his expression and the blue intensity of his gaze made her breath catch in her throat.

“I know,” he repeated, brows furrowing as he rubbed one thumb nervously against the palm of his hand. “But you do have a choice. You--I’d rather die than force you to do this. You know that, right?”

Jemma opened her mouth as her heart sank, but no words came out. He was completely serious. The thought that he would truly forfeit his own life rather than make her do this was like a shot to the stomach. She couldn’t process it, mostly because the thought of Fitz _dying_ \--truly, permanently being gone from her life--was unfathomable.

“Fitz…” she whispered weakly, her face crumpling as she lifted a hand toward him.

“I mean it,” he said fiercely. He balled his hands into fists, seemingly having found some kind of resolve as he looked at her. “I would--I’d never force you to do this, never. You--” He swallowed thickly, glancing away and licking his lips before looking back to her. “You don’t have to do this, Jemma.”

There it was, her given name again. Somehow, Fitz saying it held a surprising amount of intimacy, which only made her feel even more confused and distraught. While she knew that Fitz cared deeply about her, being confronted with the terrifying depth of his devotion caught her even more off-guard than the band on her wrist. Making things worse was the knowledge that this wasn’t even the first time he’d been willing to die for her. She remembered the day she’d contracted the Chitauri virus, watching him break every rule they’d ever been taught at the Academy when he broke quarantine to work by her side until they’d found a cure. They’d worn gloves, but she’d known that there was no real way to protect him from it, had known as she’d knocked him out that he most likely already had it in his system, and that her jumping out of the plane was the best way to buy him enough time to make it to a fully stocked SHIELD facility that could save him. Even past that, Ward had told her how he’d found Fitz in the cargo bay after she’d jumped, struggling to put on a parachute, ready to jump after her. Fitz had no experience with skydiving, none, and he’d been ready to jump anyway, so desperate to save her life that he’d thrown away all reason.

Without thinking, without even breathing, Jemma surged forward to press her mouth ardently against Fitz’s. For a moment, he went stiff with surprise, and she almost backed away, suddenly unsure of why that had been her instinct. Then, tentatively, he moved his lips against hers; they were warm and soft, and when his hands slid around to her lower back, she melted into him.

Jemma wasn’t sure what she should be thinking; logically, it would be better for their friendship for the kiss to be awful, even if it would make saving Fitz’s life that much easier. A part of her had expected it to feel fundamentally _wrong_ , like kissing a brother. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

When she finally broke away, she took a deep breath before leaning back to look into his eyes. The words she needed to say did not come easy; her behavior hadn’t quite made any more sense to her than it did to him, but at least her mind was made up.

“I trust you,” she said. It was the best she could give him, even if it at once felt too revealing and yet like not enough.

Fitz stared back at her for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before he finally nodded and licked his lips. “Right. So.” He drew in a deep breath of his own. “Um...how do we start this…”

Jemma tilted her head, giving him a bemused look. “ _Fitz._ ”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I bloody well know _how_ , it’s just--” His eyes turned almost pleading. “This is awkward as arse, you know it is.”

She couldn’t help the tiny self-conscious laugh that bubbled out of her then, feeling the tension between them break just a little. How did best friends seduce each other when put on the spot? “You’re right, it--it is,” she said, smoothing her hands up to his shoulders from where they’d been resting against his chest. “Let’s just start with kissing, and...go from there.”

Fitz nodded again, his fingers tapping against her waist. “Okay.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, eyes focused, and Jemma was surprised to feel a tiny thrill of anticipation zip down her spine. He hesitated only slightly before leaning in to kiss her again.

At first they were light, careful: getting used to each other, learning how they fit together. The slow, exploratory slide of their lips was much nicer than Jemma had expected it to be, and though there was a faint air of awkwardness at the beginning, it didn’t take long for that to dissipate. She could feel the difference as they both gradually relaxed, how Fitz’s kisses grew a little firmer, and she stepped closer, slipping one hand around the back of his neck. If this was any indication of how things would go, they weren’t off to a bad start.

It was only when Fitz dared to suck on her upper lip, brushing his tongue across it, that Jemma felt the first real lance of heat shoot straight to her gut. Her breath hitched at the shock of it, and she almost pulled away, but she hastily reminded herself that that was the point of all this. If this was going to work, she _had_ to give in and let herself enjoy it. It was the only way she’d ever get excited.

_Don’t think, just do._

So Jemma pressed in even closer, twisting her fingers into the fabric of Fitz’s sweater, and nipped at his bottom lip. He made a quiet noise in the back of his throat, and she took it as tacit permission to slant his mouth open and deepen the kiss, sliding her tongue in against his. Fitz froze for a moment, long enough that she was ready to pull back and apologize, to go back to taking it slow, but suddenly his hands tightened on her waist.

It was like a dam had burst. Fitz groaned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against him, and kissed her with an intensity that left her breathless and dizzy. There was nothing shy left about the way his mouth moved against hers, and Jemma let herself get swept away by it, giving back as good as she got. A part of her was in disbelief that it was Fitz kissing her like this, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised. After all, like Skye had said, they were close and were both reasonably attractive people. They were compatible in every other way; it only made sense that they would also be compatible sexually, didn’t it?

But rational thought was lost as they gave themselves over to instinct, their kisses growing more and more heated, more passionate and raw. Jemma was faintly aware that Fitz had turned them, backing her up against the door of his bunk, and that she’d slid both of her hands into his hair, fisting tightly in his curls as she tried to control the angle of their kiss. He filled her senses: the heat of his mouth, the scent of his skin mixed with soap and cologne, the press of his hands, the sound of his gasping breaths between kisses. They’d almost reached fever pitch, messy and desperate, and Jemma couldn’t deny the longing she now felt for _more_. Maybe it was time to move forward.

Fitz broke their kiss, sliding his lips along her jaw before nipping and kissing down her neck to her pulse point. Jemma sighed in pleasure, tilting her head back as he began to suck up what would be an impressive mark, if they weren’t careful. She breathed out his name, clutching at his shoulders.

His only response was to suck harder at her skin.

Her vision went spotty for a moment, her breath hitching again. “ _Fitz_ ,” she said again, and nudged his face back up to hers. Once she’d caught his lips in a hard, messy kiss, she reached down to grab the hem of his sweater and started pulling it up.

That got the message across. He let go of her to help her tug it off, and as she dropped it to the floor, his eyes were wide and dark. His gaze made her stomach do a funny flop as he pressed in for more kisses and she started tugging his tie loose.

Fitz moved to trail kisses over her cheek and to her ear as she went to work on his shirt--oh god, she was really undressing him, she was undressing her _best friend_ \--and his hands slipped up beneath her sweater to smooth over her back. It was distracting, the warmth of his palms on her skin, and her fingers fumbled more than once as she undid the buttons of his shirt.

Once she got his shirt open, Jemma made to push his sleeves down, but Fitz pulled her sweater up over her head before she had a chance to. He bit his lip as his eyes roamed over the skin suddenly bared to him, the swell of her breasts in her plain satin bra, and she had to fight against an amused eye roll. Men really were all the same, sometimes, even geniuses like Fitz.

It was only when she finally got his shirt off that Fitz displayed a hint of shyness again, his shoulders hunching in as he took a small step back from her. “Fitz?” she asked, not understanding his withdrawal. “What is it?”

He made a face, moving to cross his arms somewhat self-consciously before thinking better of it. “Oh--um--it’s just...well, I’m not exactly built to your preferences, am I?” he mumbled. “That’s got to be a bit of a let down. Even _Milton_ was more built than me.”

Jemma shook her head, wondering at his use of _preferences_ , and stepped back into his space. “You think I care about that?” she asked gently. “A fit body is nice, yes, but that’s not what’s really important to me. There’s nothing wrong with you.” She smiled. “And, actually, you’re wrong--you’re much more well-formed than Milton.”

She ran her hands flat up his chest before pulling him into a long, slow kiss. While it was true that he wasn’t as fit and toned as the men she typically admired, Fitz felt solid and firm with just the right amount of give, with a slim leanness to him that she actually found quite appealing. She’d always thought him handsome, even back when they’d first met and he’d hated her. The past few minutes had just given her an entirely new appreciation for his physique.

She kept the kiss soft and gentle until she felt him relax again, before reaching down to undo the button of his jeans. A loud hiss escaped his throat as she lowered the zipper, and when her fingers brushed against the slight bulge there, she realized he’d already started to go hard.

Tensing up, Fitz pulled away again, his ears crimson. “Ah--sorry.”

This time, Jemma couldn’t suppress a short laugh. “Why are you sorry? That’s the point of all of this, you’re _supposed_ to get an erection.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, looking mortified. “ _Jemma_ \--please--I mean, I know it’s-- _shut up_.” He gave her a severe look, though the effect was ruined somewhat by the fact that he was standing there half-naked with the fly of his jeans open. “This is taking some adjustment, okay? Go back to being amazingly turned on like you were a moment ago!”

Jemma’s smile was wide, almost blinding, as she pulled him back to her by his belt loops. It was incredible how into this she was, how comfortable she felt, how much she wanted to ease his insecurities and have him be comfortable too. “I can manage that,” she said teasingly, “if you can go back to being unbearably attractive the way you were earlier.”

Fitz’s eyes went slightly round, his eyebrows raising in a question-- _who, me?_ \--but when Jemma simply slid her hands up to his shoulders with a smirk, his eyes turned dark again and he grabbed her by the waist, kissing her hard and fast.

Jemma squeaked in delighted surprise, feeling heat rush through her veins as he licked his way into her mouth. Well, that was one way to do it--Fitz taking charge like this was indeed quite attractive, a side to him she hadn’t anticipated, and it really was turning her on. It made her want to push back, and be just as assertive, to see how much he could take in return. Feeling bold, she ran her hands down to his hips and pulled them against hers, grinding against him.

Fitz groaned into her mouth, and the sound combined with the feeling of him hard against her shot a bolt of arousal straight to her center. Jemma moaned, wanting more, and rolled her hips into his. Pulling her even closer, Fitz stroked his tongue over hers and moved a hand down to splay over the curve of her arse, holding her to him as he ground into her again and again. Clearly, he was no longer shy about his reaction to her. Jemma clenched her hands over his hips before they pulled away as one, struggling to remove their jeans, along with their shoes and socks, without breaking their kiss.

Once they were both stripped down to their underwear, they straightened back up, Fitz immediately reaching around to undo to clasp of her bra. It took him a few, long seconds to figure it out, during which she pressed kisses along his jaw, trying not to smile at the way he huffed in frustration. When the hooks finally came loose, he stepped away to give her room to slide the straps down her arms and toss it away.

Then Jemma knew her own moment of uncharacteristic shyness--not because she was unsure of her body, and not because she had just bared her breasts to her best friend for the first time in their nearly decade-long friendship, but because Fitz was staring at them, thunderstruck and breathless from their kisses, and she didn’t know how to react to the reverence clear in his gaze.

“They’re just breasts,” she murmured, for lack of anything else to say or do.

Fitz blinked before looking up at her, breaking himself from his trance. “No, I know,” he said hoarsely. “It’s just--you’re beautiful.” His face flushed at the way her eyes widened in surprise, and he shrugged lightly. “Just...thought it was worth saying.” Then he held out his hands to her. “C’mere.”

Jemma wrapped her arms around his neck and shivered slightly as he pulled her flush against him, excitement tingling through her whole body. The feeling of his bare chest against hers was a revelation, and she let herself indulge in the firm slide of their lips together for a moment before she nudged him toward the bed.

But her heart was hammering in her chest as she laid back against the sheets and Fitz climbed up over her on his hands and knees. Smart man that he was, he wasted no time in kissing her again, ramping back up the heat that had been banking between them. Wanting to feel the press of his weight against her, Jemma shifted to pull at his hips, trying to tug him down on top of her, but he resisted. Instead, he balanced on one elbow and caressed her hip with his other hand, before smoothing it up her ribs to rest just below her breast. He paused there for a moment and it felt like her nerves were singing with anticipation. Then he stroked his thumb up over her nipple.

She gasped, and she felt Fitz smile against her mouth as he repeated the motion, then pinched her nipple before palming her entire breast. Arching up into his touch, she couldn’t stop the small noises of arousal that escaped her, and he pulled his mouth away to run a line of kisses down her throat back to her pulse point. Evidently, he remembered that was what had so skillfully driven her to distraction earlier, and she felt a slight vein of pride at his memory. Ever the genius, Leo Fitz.

He stayed there for a moment, kissing and nipping along her collarbone while his hand did marvelous, wonderful things to her breast, before he moved his mouth lower, and Jemma’s breathing sped up. Oh god, she couldn’t wait to feel his mouth on her. It’d been so long, and she’d always loved having attention paid to her breasts, and maybe it was shameless of her but she _really_ wanted him to take her in his mouth--

He licked a soft, wet stripe around her areola, and she gasped again, trailing off into a whimper. _So_ close. Then his lips brushed over the hardened peak of her nipple once, twice, lighting her nerves on fire, before he finally closed his lips around it.

“Oh, _Fitz_ ,” she moaned without thought, her voice high and breathy, pleasure coursing through her. He hummed, swirling his tongue around her nipple before sucking hard on it, and Jemma saw spots dance in her vision as liquid heat pooled in her core. Arching even more into him, she slid a hand into his hair to hold him to her, encouraging him to kiss and nip even more.

He split his attention equally between her breasts, stroking and teasing the one he wasn’t adoring with his mouth, and really, he was quite good at getting her worked up for someone who had no experience with sex. But Fitz had always been a fast learner, and it stood to reason that things wouldn’t be any different in the bedroom.

But he was truly going above and beyond. They probably didn’t need to spend so much time on foreplay; she was already wet and had no doubt that Fitz was ready, too. It was time to move on. She didn’t want to make Fitz spend any longer with her than was necessary to remove the Rings.

(Even if she felt like she would be willing to spend hours with him. That was probably her neglected sex drive talking.)

“Fitz,” she breathed, scratching her nails over his scalp. “Fitz. You...you don’t have to-- _oh!--_ you don’t have to do this...so much.”

He released her breast with a quiet _pop_. “I want to,” he murmured, looking up at her. Then he bit his lip with a frown. “But if _you_ don’t want me to--”

“No! No, I do, it’s just I don’t want you to feel forced--”

“I don’t.” Fitz stretched up to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “Let me do this,” he added, leaning back down and kissing the valley between her breasts. “ _For_ you.” Then he licked back up over her left nipple, sucking it back into his mouth, and Jemma moaned, her eyes sliding shut.

It occurred to her then that perhaps this was Fitz’s way of taking care of her. Maybe he wanted to make the experience at least somewhat pleasant for her, something more than an anxiety-fueled coupling only meant to save a life, and he was doing it by showing her extra attention, by handling her with care, and treating her like she actually meant something. Besides, hadn’t she given herself permission to enjoy this? If Fitz could take care of her, then she could do the same for him, and try to ensure that his first time wasn’t wholly unpleasant either. Giving herself over fully to being with Fitz, not holding back on the soft cries and gasps of pleasure she’d been trying to hold in, was far easier than examining the feelings his tenderness evoked, and the pressure of his tongue against her nipple had chased away any residual critical thought.

She let him continue to tease her until she was positively aching for him, her core throbbing with need, hips instinctively lifting in search of friction that wasn’t there. Forcing herself to relax the hand that was twisted into the sheets, she tugged at his arm. “Fitz...please...I’m--I’m ready.”

When he looked up at her, the blue of his eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them, but there was also the faintest hint of apprehension. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” Jemma had bit down a whimper at the loss of his mouth from her skin, but she consoled herself with the promise of more, soon. “Did--did May leave the condoms in here?”

Fitz looked past her, to the shelf up above the bed. “Yeah, she did.” He licked his lips. “I guess I should--right.”

Pushing up to clamber off of her and stand next to the bed, he reached over and pulled out a foil packet. Jemma couldn’t help but stare at the bulge tenting the front of his boxer-briefs as he did so; he caught her looking and flushed slightly before turning away.

(She, Jemma Simmons, had made Fitz go hard. She’d turned him on. Or maybe it was just a biological thing, him responding to physical stimuli, and had nothing to do with her as a person. That seemed more likely. Her breasts really were very well-formed, if she did say so herself.)

When he shucked off his underwear, revealing his bare bum, her eyebrows raised in approval. He had quite a nice bum, actually, surprisingly pert. It was a shame he often left his shirts untucked, covering it up. Had she ever noticed how nice it was before? Perhaps, in passing, more as an academic observation than anything else. Maybe--

The crinkling of the condom packet broke her from her reverie, and she sat up to slip her knickers down her legs before dropping them off the side of the bed. Then Fitz turned back to her, and they both froze for a moment, their eyes tracking over each other’s bodies. Jemma knew she’d be mortified if Fitz had any idea how much the sight of his cock, hard and erect, was turning her on even more, making her far more eager than she should to feel him inside her, so she bit her lip and held out her hand.

He let her pull him back to the bed, and once he was hovering over her on his elbows and knees again, he leaned down to kiss her, slow and thorough. Jemma squirmed, shifting to invite him down into the cradle of her hips, impatient to feel the weight of him on top of her, but that thought was silenced when he trailed a hand down to the apex of her thighs.

She gasped at the stroke of his fingers up through her folds, slicking through the wetness there. His touch was gentle, seeking, as if he was testing her readiness. Fitz broke their kiss and let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead to hers, and, hesitating briefly, removed his hand. Then he leaned back a little to look at her.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his eyes searching hers, his expression faintly troubled. “Because--there’s no going back from this.”

Jemma reached up to frame his face with her hands, wishing she could smooth away the worry writ in his brow. “I do,” she whispered, trying to infuse her words with every ounce of sincerity she could. She had no doubt in her mind now--she wanted this. She knew they wouldn’t be able to emerge from this completely unchanged, but she was confident that it wouldn’t change who they were at their foundation. He was Fitz, and she was Simmons--everything else was just variation in the code.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Fitz asked again. “Because I meant what I said--”

Bringing their mouths together, she silenced him with a kiss--the time for arguing was long past. It took him a moment to relax before he responded just as eagerly, almost desperately. A small vein of excitement and relief fluttered through her stomach--Fitz wasn’t going to die today. Not on her watch.

When she broke the kiss, he stayed close, allowing her to stroke a thumb over his cheekbone. “Please,” she whispered, brushing another kiss against his mouth.

Fitz stared at her in silence for a moment, still looking a bit unsure, before he nodded. Then he reached down to help guide himself to her entrance and, his eyes never leaving hers, began to slowly push inside her.

She didn’t have words for it, the sensation of staring into Fitz’s eyes as they molded their bodies together, bit by bit. The depth of the irises, the desire and the need and the _emotion_ within them--it was nearly overwhelming. Then he slid in just a little deeper and it _was_ too much. Her breath hitched as her eyes squeezed shut in pain, and she pressed a hand to his shoulder blade.

“Wait!” She gasped. “Stop--please.”

Fitz froze, a strangled noise sticking in his throat. “What? What did--did I hurt you?”

“No, you…” Jemma shook her head, breathing in slowly through her nose and trying to relax. “Just wait a moment. Please.”

He nodded and, blowing out a breath, let his head drop between his shoulders. He was trembling slightly, but she didn’t know if it was from pleasure or the strain of keeping still, or both.

An idea came to her. Sighing, Jemma reached down between them to seek out her clit. Once she found it, she started rubbing slow circles around it, coaxing out pleasure to counteract the pain. The effect was almost immediate. She felt herself start to relax, her inner muscles loosening slightly, and Fitz slid a little further in.

He let out a quiet grunt, shifting slightly to curl a hand around her shoulder. When she opened her eyes, she found he’d lifted his head and was watching her, lips parted and eyes impossibly dark. It struck her that seeing her pleasure herself was having an effect on him, much the same way keeping eye contact had done for her just a moment ago. But this was necessary right now, not something done for titillation. She filed away the information for later use ( _what_ later use?) and concentrated on not being so tense.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Jemma relaxed enough that she could work past the discomfort. She carefully tilted her hips up into Fitz’s, letting out a breath of relief when there was much less pain, and she grasped his hip to help push him the rest of the way in.

They both took a moment to gather themselves then, Jemma adjusting to the feeling of him filling her completely--wonderful, incredible, amazing--and Fitz shoring up his control. At last, he dropped a few more kisses to her cheeks and neck.

“Okay?” he asked hoarsely.

“Okay,” she affirmed, nodding, her nose brushing against his. “More than okay.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Good.” Then he pulled his hips back and slowly pushed in again.

Jemma sighed as he repeated the motion, watching the pleasure play out over his face, entranced by the way his eyebrows drew in and his mouth bowed open. It took a few careful thrusts before she responded in kind, letting out a quiet hum as she rolled her hips up into his.

They both groaned at the sensations that produced, his cock stroking over her sensitive skin as she clenched around him, and together they worked to find a steady rhythm, unhurried, just as in-sync here as they’d ever been anywhere else. Jemma forced her eyes open, wanting to see him, and felt a lance of shock run through her when she found that he was already watching her, again. He held her gaze as they moved together, their panting breaths mingling between them, and-- _god_ , it was even more indescribable than before, looking into his eyes as he thrust into her, slowly driving her higher and higher. It was trust and care and pleasure and other emotions she couldn't even name mixing together to create a powerful euphoria. It was _magic_. She never wanted it to stop.

“ _Fitz_ ,” she moaned, her eyelids fluttering, and clung to him harder, urging him to move just a little faster.

Fitz shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts, and once again they both moaned in pleasure. “Fuck, Jemma,” he gasped, still staring at her. “God, you-- _uck._ ”

Jemma gasped, reveling in the knowledge that it was just as good for him as it was for her, and slid a hand into his hair. Fitz kept up his pace, deep and powerful, and she was just beginning to feel the white-hot nexus of pleasure at her center begin to peak when he came to a sudden halt inside her, panting hard.

She made a noise of dismay, desperate to keep building the delicious friction between them, and she instinctively lifted her hips up into his again, trying to goad him back into action.

“Don’t!” Fitz hissed, sounding panicked. “Don’t move. Just...I need a moment.”

Jemma nodded, even though he couldn’t see her with his head bowed, and moved her hands to rub up and down his biceps. That seemed like a safe option, something to remind him that she was there and present with him; reassuring, rather than lying completely still and stiff beneath him. After a long moment, he gave an experimental roll of his hips. She bit back a sigh of pleasure, not knowing if he was in control yet, and squeezed his shoulders. Then he nodded before looking back up and leaning in to nuzzle at her before easing back into his previous rhythm.

But barely a few seconds passed before he stopped again, letting out a frustrated huff. “ _Dammit_ ,” he bit out. “Are--are you close, at all?”

“Not...a little, but not really,” Jemma replied reluctantly.

“So, definitely not within the next thirty seconds.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Fitz heaved a sigh, bowing his head again. “I’m, uh--I’m not going to last, not like this. And--if we’re going to do this right, like the Rings want, we’re...um, we’re going to have to get you close, ah, another way.” He glared at the band on his wrist, which had been inconspicuous enough since they’d entered his bunk that Jemma had almost forgotten about it.

(She couldn’t afford to do that. It was critical. This wasn’t a pleasure romp, Fitz’s life depended on it.)

With a sharp huff, Fitz pulled out, and she couldn’t quite stop her own hiss of disappointment, aching for the surprisingly luxurious build of her orgasm. When she saw the way his head drooped even more, his mouth pressing down into a thin line, she reached out to stroke her palms over his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Fitz,” she soothed. “There’s no shame in it--”

“Oh, spare me,” Fitz muttered, turning his face away. “It’s bloody embarrassing, is what it is--”

“It’s not!” she insisted. “It’s completely normal for a man not to last long his first time.”

Fitz shook his head. “Just--for once in my life I’d like not to be ‘most men.’”

Jemma couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Oh, Fitz. Come here.”

She coaxed him forward, tugging at his shoulders until his face was level with hers again, and drew him down into a slow, deep kiss. Time briefly fell away from them as she focused on the slide of their lips, the heat of his mouth and the velvet of his tongue, trying to bring back the Fitz who had thrilled her with his boldness.

Eventually, satisfied that she’d kissed his sulk fit away, she leaned back and smiled at him. “You could never be ‘most men,’ Fitz,” she murmured.

He stared down at her for a moment, eyes faintly wide with surprise and something else she couldn’t identify, before he swallowed and cleared his throat. “Right. So.” His eyes flicked down the length of her body. “Let’s...let’s work on you, then.” And he pushed away to start shuffling backward down the bed.

When Jemma realized what Fitz’s intent was, she gasped as her entire body went stiff. “What--what are you doing?”

Fitz paused, one hand on her knee and the other planted between them, and looked up at her, his mouth dropping open. “I’m...going down on you?”

Jemma squeaked, even as a bolt of heat shot straight through her gut at the idea of it. “Oh--you--you don’t have to do that, hands are fine, there’s no need to--to--”

Fitz frowned, as if he couldn’t understand why she was suddenly so self-conscious. “But, that’s the fastest way to, um...to get you close.”

“Possibly,” Jemma said, “but...but most men don’t really like giving oral.”

He raised a wry eyebrow at her. “Jemma, you _literally_ just told me that I’m not ‘most men.’”

Feeling her face flush-- _damn him_ \--she cast about for a proper counter argument. “Well--it’s messy! A bit. And involves bodies and fluids. You’ve always hated those particular parts of biology.”

Fitz huffed a laugh. “Trust me,” he said darkly, “I am not going to hate this.”

It was Jemma’s turn to frown, not understanding the tone he’d taken or his assurance that he’d like it; but before she had a chance to question him, his expression cleared, and he gave her a considering head tilt.

“Do _you_ not want me to?” he asked.

She almost deferred again on instinct, but she forced herself to think logically. “You’re right, it _would_ be the quickest way to get me close to orgasm, but...I--I don’t--I wouldn’t--I mean, if you’re uncomfortable, or…”

When Fitz let out a soft chuckle, she let her rambling trail off, cheeks flushing as she realized that she _had_ been rambling. Then he sighed and pushed up, sitting back on his heels. “How about this: we do Roshambo.”

Jemma blinked. “What?”

“Roshambo,” he repeated, seeming even more sure of the idea. “Quick and easy decision with a clear winner, because if we don’t, we’ll argue in circles about this for hours. And, not only are we on a timer, but this is--it’s killing the mood a bit.”

Glancing down at his cock, which begged to differ, she felt her cheeks flush again. How had her life come to this point? She was naked in bed with her best friend, his very visible erection on full display, and they were about to Roshambo to determine whether or not he went down on her. If anyone had told her twenty-four hours ago that this would be her reality, she would have laughed herself sick.

“Fine,” she said at last, because he _was_ right. “I’ll defer to you this once.”

Fitz smiled--her heart did a funny loop--and reached out between them, one fist flat on an open palm. “Ready?”

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Jemma mirrored him. “Ready.”

“Right. And--Roshambo!”

Jemma fought a smile of her own at the sight of her rock to his scissors. Fitz always threw scissors.

Always.

He raised his eyebrows at her and ran his hands flat down his thighs to his knees. “So, what’ll it be?”

Jemma considered her options. While they _were_ on a timer, they weren’t cutting it that close, so getting her close quickly wasn’t really an issue. And she did want to take his squeamishness into consideration, but she supposed she had to just trust him when he said he was fine with it. Her previous boyfriends had never been very enthusiastic about oral, and that had always dimmed her enjoyment somewhat. If she was being honest now, though, she really did want it. Not just because it was the more practical option, but for herself. And because it was Fitz.

The realization took her by surprise. She _wanted_ him to go down on her, wanted _Fitz_ to take her apart with his mouth, to learn the most intimate part of her body as well as he knew her mind. That was not the reason she had expected to land on. But now was not the time to overanalyze _that_ particular instinct; perhaps she was just caught up in the moment.

For now, she forced herself to look her best friend in the eye and not blush. “Your mouth, please,” she said.

A look of surprise passed over Fitz’s face, but then he smirked. _Smirked_. “You won’t regret it,” he replied. “Fortunately for you, I’m a physicist.”

Unable to stop herself from giving him a quick roll of her eyes, she made a small tut. “What does _that_ have to do with--”

“C’mon Jemma,” he said, voice almost teasing but a little hesitance hovering beneath, “I know pretty much everything about speed, pressure, and friction.”

Jemma’s eyes went wide. _There_ was the bold Fitz she’d been trying to bring back earlier, and though his bravado didn’t quite reach his eyes, it still made her mouth go dry and her body shiver with expectation. Even worse, he looked like he knew exactly what sort of effect his words had on her.

“And you’ll--talk to me, okay?” He added, moving down the bed and getting settled between her thighs. “Let me know if I, um, do anything you don’t like.”

“Yeah,” she echoed breathily, lying back down and looking up at the ceiling. At this point, she wasn’t sure Fitz _could_ do anything wrong, but she was willing to humor him. She tried not to squirm as she felt his hands on her, gently parting her folds, followed by the warm puff of his breath. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

Her breath caught at the first touch of his tongue to her, a soft, exploratory swipe up from her entrance, and Jemma moaned quietly as warm waves of pleasure radiated out from her center. He repeated it a few times, slowly, as if he were testing her out, learning her. Then he moved to lick directly over the sensitive nub of her clit, and she let out a sharp cry, tensing up as pure heat shot through her veins.

“Good?” he mumbled, his voice muffled against her skin, and she shivered as his lips brushed against her.

“Yes,” she gasped, unable to care about how needy she sounded. “ _Please_ \--”

Fitz did as he was told, returning to her clit and licking around it for a moment before sucking it into his mouth, and Jemma was lost. True to his word, he varied the pressure and speed of his tongue, and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced with her previous boyfriends. Once again, she thanked her lucky stars that Fitz was a quick study, or that maybe the article she’d caught him reading earlier had actually taught him something useful. Whatever it was, this felt incredible. The sensations he was eliciting were overwhelming, almost painful in their intensity, blazing wet heat coiling up inside her, leaving her gasping and crying out his name, begging for more. In response, he hummed, the sound low and intense, and the vibrations only added to the pleasure of having his mouth work against her.

Nearly delirious but endlessly, instinctively curious, Jemma looked down. The sight of Fitz’s head buried between her legs, working intently over her, was so unexpectedly erotic that the next swipe of his tongue nearly sent her tumbling over the edge, and she had to drop her head back to keep her wits about her.

Her entire body went taut, thighs shaking as she tried desperately not to rock her hips in time with the motion of his tongue, and Jemma knew she was dangerously close to the best orgasm she’d ever had. She didn’t want him to stop--instinct wanted her to chase that feeling, and let him drive her over the edge--but she knew they had to climax together, or they would have to try again.

“Fitz.” She loosened her hold on his curls. “Fitz, I’m--I’m close, _stop_ \--”

He halted his movements immediately, lifting his head to look at her, and just like it had before, the sudden end to the pleasure she was experiencing made her whimper shamefully. She reached her arms out to him, wanting to bring him close, and Fitz swiped the back of his hand across his mouth before crawling back up the bed to her.

“Good?” he asked again, struggling to catch his breath.

“God, yes.” Jemma had already shifted to bracket his hips with her thighs and pulled him down against her, eager to have him inside her again. She was a little surprised to find that he was still fully hard, but that was a good thing. If they were going to capitalize on getting her close to orgasm with his mouth, they didn’t need to waste any time. “Are you ready to try again?”

Fitz nodded, curling his hands around her shoulders. “Yeah--”

He’d barely gotten his assent out before Jemma rolled her hips up, grabbing his arse to help push him back inside of her. Fitz choked on a groan as he sunk all the way in, and she sighed with contentment, moving to swivel her hips in tiny circles against his.

“Christ, _Jemma_ ,” he mumbled, and briefly pressed his forehead to hers before starting to rock against her, setting up the same rhythm they’d found before. Pleasure immediately bloomed back to life within her, and she moaned, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and rolling her hips up to meet his thrusts. It was good, incredibly so, intoxicating, but it wasn’t enough.

“Fitz,” she breathed, “I need--more. More of you.”

He made a strained noise, panting against her lips. “I’m not gonna last,” he reminded her.

Jemma shook her head. “You won’t have to.” Then she kissed him, sloppy and uncoordinated from the movement of their bodies. “Please.”

Fitz nodded, exhaling shakily. Then he dug his knees into the mattress and began thrusting into her even harder, faster.

It was exactly what she needed. Jemma cried out again in pleasure, at the delicious friction his cock sliding into her at this pace created, at the sensation of him hitting places inside of her she barely knew existed. The white-hot coil that had been building inside of her flared back up, heat sparking through her in waves, and she followed the feeling, her muscles tightening again.

“God, yes, _Fitz_ , just--just a little more--almost--”

He was moaning too, his breath hot against her neck, saying things like _Jemma_ and _god_ and _amazing_ and it only spurred her to clutch him tighter, roll her hips even harder, wanting to give him just as much pleasure as she was receiving. Then he grabbed her hand, pressing it down into the mattress as he linked their fingers tightly together, and the unexpected intimacy of it combined with his cock stroking against something amazing deep inside her made that coil of tension at her core expand to bursting.

“Fitz--I’m--I’m-- _now_ , now, let go, now--!”

Her back arched and her limbs seized up around him when she came, keening out a high, wordless cry as waves of pleasure crested and washed through her, leaving her dizzy. She was vaguely aware of Fitz’s thrusts going erratic, his voice ragged as he groaned low and long into her neck, before he stopped, buried deep inside her. Then they both went still, breathing hard, limbs tangled, minds blank with ecstasy.

A faint click-and-hiss sound caught Jemma’s attention in the midst of her post-coital haze. Turning her head toward it, she opened her eyes just in time to see the metal bands around both her and Fitz’s wrists dissolve into thin air. Her mouth fell open.

“Fitz,” she breathed, letting go of his hand to trace her fingers over the now-bare skin of his wrist. “We did it.” She looked back up to find him smiling, the relief writ clear in his eyes washing through her, leaving her feeling loose and relaxed. He leaned down to kiss her, and the slow, unhurried slide of his lips against hers eased away the last of her worries. It was easy to lose herself in it, to want to fall back into the echoes of pleasure that still thrummed through her veins, to want to wrap herself up in Fitz and let the rest of the world drift away. After breaking the kiss, Fitz lingered close for a moment, sliding a palm along her cheek. His eyes were warm, dark, and so wonderfully familiar, yet held something completely different than anything she’d ever seen in his expression before.

Then he inhaled and pulled away, sitting up on the side of the bed to grab a tissue and dispose of the condom. When he silently moved to search amongst their discarded clothes for his boxer-briefs, however, something cold and uneasy settled in Jemma’s gut. She watched as he stood to pull them on, then bent to retrieve his jeans, and suddenly she felt very exposed, lying naked on his bed. The perfunctory way he was going about putting his clothes back on without a glance or a word in her direction was making her feel oddly ashamed to even be there, as if they had done something illicit, forbidden, _wrong_. That wasn’t quite what was bothering her, though, and she wrinkled her nose as she tried to parse out the feelings that were so foreign to her.

Everything they had done today had been to save their own lives, nothing more and nothing less. But somehow along the way, she’d lost sight of that. It struck her suddenly that what they’d done together _mattered_. The way he’d watched her, had touched, and cradled, and cared so much about her mattered to her in a way she hadn’t expected, and a great sadness that this hadn’t been for themselves welled up in her chest. A day ago she couldn’t have fathomed wanting to have sex with her grouchy but brilliant, awkward but handsome best friend in the world. And now?

A lump rose in Jemma’s throat as she watched Fitz cross to his wardrobe and open it, his back still to her, and she hastily made to pull the bedsheet up and over herself, sitting up against the wall. It didn’t make _sense_ to want whispered words and soft touches, but it seemed both her feelings and her body were betraying her by craving them. She swallowed, fighting against the tears that pricked at her eyes. Fitz couldn’t know. He’d obviously managed to compartmentalize well, and she couldn’t stand for him to see her so weak, unable to hold up her end of their agreement, having let herself become too invested.

“Right,” Fitz said, pulling a fresh shirt and tie from his wardrobe. “We should probably--” Then he turned and saw her, huddled and wretched, clutching his sheet to her chest, and his mouth fell open. “Jemma?” He dropped his clothes at the foot of the bed and was sitting next to her in an instant, ducking his head to try and catch her gaze. “Jemma, what’s wrong? Did--did I hurt you?”

Jemma squeezed her eyes shut, feeling another pulse of shame as a few tears escaped and slipped down her cheeks. _Oh, you did, just not how you’d expect_ , she thought miserably, and took a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“No,” she said, embarrassed at the way her voice wobbled. “Just--I’m--I’m feeling quite emotional for some reason.” It was a horrible attempt at lying, but their situation was complicated enough that hopefully Fitz would take her meaning for something else and let it slide.

Fortunately, he did. “Yeah, I...I can see that,” he replied, and reached up to hesitantly cradle her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

Jemma heaved another deep breath and nodded, leaning her cheek into his palm. Fitz sighed, then scooted closer on the bed and gathered her up into his arms, settling her face against the crook of his neck. He’d yet to put a shirt on, and being pressed against his warm, bare skin again was far more comforting than it had any right to be. It wasn’t quite the contact that she wanted so badly, but she would take it. Fitz was her best friend; he cared. He would never be cold and impersonal on purpose. She would always matter to him, even if he saw what they had just done very differently than she did.

It took a few moments of Fitz running a soothing hand over her back for the stiffness in her shoulders to melt away, and for her to feel much calmer. Then he sighed again. “You scared me,” he murmured against her hair. “For a moment, I thought--um, I worried...I felt like I’d...I’d assaulted you. Or…something.”

She sat up abruptly with a gasp, almost forgetting to hold the sheet over her chest. “ _No_ ,” she said firmly, taking in his pinched expression. “That wasn’t--that’s not what this was. When you gave me a choice, I consented.”

“Well, it’s like you said before--wasn’t much of a choice, was it?” he mumbled, looking down. Clearly his doubts and insecurities had come rushing back, too.

Jemma took his hand in her free one, squeezing it. “I’m fine, Fitz. Really, I am,” she added, when he gave her a doubtful glance. And it was true: though she was still deeply confused, she felt more in control of herself now. “ _You_ didn’t force me to do anything.”

After a moment, Fitz looked back up and gave her a small smile. Then his eyes tracked over the rest of her, her mussed hair and her hand still holding the sheet up to cover herself, and his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Here,” he said quietly, standing. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he unlocked his bunk door and slid it open, stepping out into the common area. Jemma spent his absence leaning over the side of the bed, reaching for her own clothes and deciding on how best to go about putting them back on without making things awkward, but stopped when Fitz reappeared in the doorway, holding out her bathrobe.

“Why don’t you go have a shower, get cleaned up,” he said as she took the robe from him. “I’ll go after you. And then we can, ah...we can go see if the team’s back yet.”

Jemma quietly murmured her thanks, then bit her lip as he pointedly turned his back to her, giving her privacy so she could get dressed. She wanted to chide him, to say that modesty was a bit pointless now that they’d spent the past however long naked and entwined, but her heart wasn’t in it. He was already withdrawing back into himself, and her emotions were in disarray. So she stood from the bed and slipped on her robe, tying the sash firmly at her waist, and bent to pick up her clothes. When she was done, she hesitated. She knew that once she left his bunk, whatever intimacy they’d cultivated, the closeness they’d found, however forced, would be gone. Over. A guilty part of her, the part that was currently a jumbled mess, wasn’t ready to let go.

Holding her clothes against herself, she reached out to tug at Fitz’s elbow. “Fitz,” she whispered, turning him back toward her, and before she could second-guess herself or change her mind, she leaned up to kiss him one last time, firm but sweet.

Fitz immediately melted into it, responding in kind as his hands settled on her hips. Jemma was hard-pressed not to drop her clothes and wrap her arms around him again, seeking more of his warmth, but she held back. Instead she tried to memorize the taste and the feel of him, in order to carry it with her once their status quo was reset.

When she finally, reluctantly, pulled away--not quite able to look at him, ashamed of her own neediness--she hurried away from his bunk without another word.

She spent most of her time in the shower trying to put herself back to rights. It would be wrong to come to any conclusions about anything now, fresh from the experience and with her thoughts and emotions still in turmoil. Anything she thought she felt for Fitz now couldn’t be trusted. She had just committed a very private, personal act with someone who she cared for very much, but whom she’d never considered romantically; it was only logical for her to be confused, assigning deeper meaning to things that she shouldn’t. Once there was more time and distance between her and what they’d done, she would be able to see things in a more rational light. Perhaps then she would find that nothing had really changed after all, that she and Fitz were still what they had always been--the very best of friends.

But, platonic feelings or no, she still couldn’t deny that sleeping with Fitz had mattered. It hadn’t been just a rote shag for her, and it never could have been, no matter what she’d told herself beforehand. Fitz meant too much to her, his life was far too intertwined with hers, for it not to be. She could only hope that the easy comfort of their relationship could survive this ordeal intact, that they could still look each other in the eye come morning.

The door to Fitz’s bunk was closed when Jemma came back from her shower, so she knocked gently on it to let him know she was done before she went into her own bunk. She took her time getting dressed and drying her hair, still feeling unsure of herself. Her body ached slightly where Fitz had been inside her, and while she knew that was very normal and natural, she still didn’t know how to process the fact that it was her best friend who had done it.

When she finally emerged from her bunk, Fitz’s door was open again; she saw him inside, fully dressed, doing up the knot on his tie. He caught her eye and nodded as she stopped outside his door. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he came out to join her, sucking in a deep breath, his hands twitching nervously at his sides.

“So,” he said slowly, his eyes trained on the floor, “should we, uh...go downstairs? See if they’re back?”

Jemma nodded, taking a hesitant step toward him. The air between them was tense, and she couldn’t stand it. If they were already falling into awkwardness, it didn’t bode well for their future. She took another step forward, waiting until he lifted his gaze to look back at her.

“Are we going to be okay?”

Something passed behind Fitz’s eyes, something she didn’t understand, before his expression softened, and he smiled. It wasn’t bright, but it was familiar and genuine, much like the one he’d given her after they first got to his bunk. “Of course we will,” he said quietly, and reached out to give her elbow a quick squeeze.

Her breath caught in her throat at the contact, but she quickly pushed away her resurging feelings and swallowed thickly. When he stepped back, Fitz’s smile had turned bracing.

“Come on,” he said, making as if to reach for her again, but thinking better of it. “Let’s go.”

As they descended the spiral staircase down into the cargo bay, Jemma was surprised to see the SUV parked inside. Ward and May stood next to it, talking quietly, and Coulson, Skye, and Sif were in the lab. Skye was at one of the benches with her laptop, while Coulson and Sif stood behind her, their focus intent on whatever she was showing them. At the sound of their footsteps on the metal stairs, everyone looked up, clearly curious but staying silent. None of them seemed to want to be first to speak.

Jemma inhaled. _Time to take charge_. “It’s done,” she said, coming to a stop just outside the lab doors, and she was proud of the steadiness to her voice. She held up her arm to show them her empty wrist; next to her, Fitz did the same. “The bands are gone.”

“We suspected as much,” Sif replied calmly, “when we returned and found that the sphere had closed.”

She gestured to the 0-8-4 on the far lab bench. The box had indeed closed back up, the floating sphere inside hidden once again. Jemma pursed her lips, trying not to squirm at the knowledge that they were all extremely aware of the fact that she and Fitz had now had sex. Skye was staring hard at them, her mouth slightly open, like she desperately wanted to ask questions but knew she’d get chastised if she did. Behind her, Coulson crossed his arms before nodding to himself.

“And everything is...fine?” he asked delicately.

Jemma reflexively looked up at Fitz, wordlessly asking his assurance. His mouth was pressed down into a thin line, but his eyes on hers were steady. She turned back to Coulson and nodded. “We’re fine, sir.”

An uneasy silence settled over them all as Coulson looked to Sif, and Skye continued to stare, looking like a dam ready to burst. Jemma could feel May and Ward watching, too, and fought the urge to shrink in on herself. There was no reason for them to be ashamed.

“Okay.” Coulson clapped his hands together, forcing a smile. “So...who’s ready to get started on the world’s most awkward debrief with HQ?”

Skye snorted, then immediately bit her lip and ducked her head as both Coulson and Sif turned a severe look on her. “Sorry,” she muttered, “it’s just--” She glanced back up at Fitz and Jemma, then shook her head. “Sorry.”

Coulson frowned at her before looking at Sif again. “Lady Sif, if you’ll come with me...you’ll need to sit in on this.” He started out of the lab, toward the staircase, with Sif following; Jemma and Fitz stood aside to let them go up the stairs first. “You too, FitzSimmons. Let’s just get this over with.”

Jemma turned to follow them, avoiding looking at anyone else as she did so. She was aware of Fitz close on her heels, and she looked back at him as she started up the stairs. He gave her a fleeting smile. The next hour or so was bound to be extremely awkward and uncomfortable for everyone involved, but at least she could be reassured that her best friend would be right there beside her, the whole time.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks passed, and life on the Bus returned to normal--or, at least, as normal as it ever was. Sif took the 0-8-4 back to Asgard with her, assuring them that it would no longer trouble anyone, and the team went back to searching for the Clairvoyant. It took a few days for Jemma to feel like the others had stopped staring at her and Fitz, watching them closely, looking for any sign of hurt or upset or loss of focus. Skye even cornered her alone one evening, wanting to make sure she was okay and offering an ear to listen if she needed it, but Jemma politely declined.

“I’m just saying, though,” Skye had said, looking uncharacteristically serious. “If you need to talk, I’m here. Sleeping with your best friend is kind of a huge deal.”

Jemma sighed before giving Skye the best smile she could manage. “I promise you, I’m fine. We both are. It...we did what we had to do. It hasn’t affected our relationship at all, we still complete our work on time and to the highest standard.”

“Yeah, but that’s your _working_ relationship,” Skye replied, tilting her head pointedly. “What about your personal relationship? Your friendship?”

Jemma lifted her chin slightly. “Never better.”

Except that was a lie.

A rift had begun to grow between her and Fitz. The others might not have noticed it yet, but Jemma most definitely did. He had been nothing but supportive during their debrief, answering Coulson’s questions and calming her with his mere presence as she answered in turn, and he’d even smiled at her again as they bid each other a somewhat stilted goodnight outside their bunks later that evening.

But overnight, he’d put up a wall. Starting the next morning, he kept a marked distance between them, staying firmly on his side of the lab and moving away from her if she came too close. All of his interactions with her were detached and professional, limited solely to the tasks set in front of them each day. When she tried to engage him in their usual pastimes, he came up with every available excuse not to be alone with her outside of the lab.

His actions left Jemma feeling confused, dismayed, and hurt. She didn’t understand why--when he’d been the one to reassure her that they would be fine--he was now pulling away. Thinking back to his worries after he’d gotten dressed, she wondered if he was harboring misplaced guilt over a fear of mistreating her, but she didn’t know any other way to soothe those fears aside from what she’d already said to him. Besides, Fitz wasn’t _acting_ guilty. He was just--remote. Distant.

They’d never had a falling out, not once in the ten years they’d known each other. There had been arguments and spats, sure, but nothing that ever lasted more than a few hours, and nothing a cup of tea or a soft word couldn’t mend. As a result, Jemma was wholly unprepared to deal with the sort of extended, long-term freeze Fitz had enacted on their relationship, and it left her heart aching. But she didn’t know how to fix it.

Even more confusing was the fact that her epiphany regarding having wanted that kind of intimacy with Fitz hadn’t waned in the days since. If anything, her feelings had only grown stronger. Memories of their time together filled her thoughts: the way Fitz had held her, the heat of his mouth on hers, the way he’d murmured her name, his voice pitched low and rough with desire. At first, she attributed it to having experienced penetrative sex for the first time--it had been good, she could admit that much, and maybe she simply wanted more. As more time passed and she was able to evaluate herself more clearly, however, she was forced to admit that the way she viewed her and Fitz’s relationship had shifted.

She wanted him. After having spent years side by side, that day on the Bus she’d been introduced to a completely new version of her best friend, and she found herself daydreaming about what else he might reveal were they to become more than friends. The differences she imagined would not be much, and yet were exactly what she wanted: evenings spent nestled against him, his arm loose around her shoulders, kisses brushed against her hairline as they read their tablets. Nights spent tangled together, heated and never close enough or soft and sleeping. Days spent working, their minds spinning brilliantly in sync with the occasional gentle touch to reassure them that they were in this for good, together.

But Jemma was hesitant to quantify these feelings: was it romantic love, passionate love? Or was it just lust? She knew that no one was as important to her than Fitz. Whenever she imagined her future, it was always with him by her side.

The problem was, she couldn’t tell him how her feelings had changed so irrefutably. Not now, not with the space he was putting between them. She had to save their friendship before she could even begin to think of asking for anything more.

Late one afternoon, Jemma was busy cleaning up her workspace after a day spent analyzing some bizarre mineral samples, while Fitz worked on upgrades to the D.W.A.R.F.s. Skye had been with them earlier, and while she was there the lab had been filled with happy chatter, but once she’d left Fitz had fallen back into silence, only giving short answers whenever Jemma asked a question.

His silences made her chest ache.

Satisfied that everything was in order, Jemma looked over at where Fitz was seated at his own bench, tinkering away at one of the drones. “It’s almost time for dinner,” she said, keeping her tone as light and cheerful as she could. “Would you like to take a break and get something to eat with me?”

Fitz didn’t pause in his work, nor did he look up at her. “Ah...no thanks, Simmons,” he murmured. “Not right now.”

Jemma bit her lip. “I made some aioli last night,” she added. “For sandwiches.” She’d gotten the ingredients for his favorite in the hopes it might convince him to join her.

This time, he paused briefly, but then shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

Disappointment welled within her, and she tried to quash it. She was almost used to his rejection by now, but it still stung every time, and it was disconcertingly reminiscent of when they’d been rivals in their Academy days. “Oh. Well...Skye downloaded the latest series of _Doctor Who_ for me. Later, when you’re finished...would you like to watch an episode? It’s just, we haven’t done that in a while, and I know you haven’t--”

Fitz shook his head again, his eyes still focused on the drone. “No. No, I can’t. Um--I really want to get these modifications done tonight and it’s going to take me awhile, so...no. Sorry.”

Jemma briefly closed her eyes as frustration joined the hurt swirling in her chest. They couldn’t go on like this.

“Fitz.” She let out a breath. “Have I done something wrong?”

Finally, he stopped working, looking up at her as his forehead creased in confusion. “What?”

She fought against the urge to huff irritably. Surely he wasn’t oblivious to his own actions. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, unable to keep the accusation from her voice. “Ever since we--ever since the 0-8-4. You won’t look at me, you’ve barely spoken a word to me outside of the lab in days, and I don’t understand why.”

Fitz stared mutely at her, eyes gone wide and mouth hanging slightly open. Then he swallowed. “I--um... it’s nothing you’ve done,” he mumbled, looking away again. “It’s me.”

Jemma scoffed. “ _Ugh_ , Fitz, that’s--I can’t believe you of all people would...” She shook her head; anger wouldn’t help. Taking a step toward him, she said, “You said we would be okay, but now you’re pushing me away. Please, if it’s something I’ve done, _tell me_. I want to make it right.”

“No, I swear, it’s not you.” His face twisted unhappily. “I just…need to. Do this. Be by myself. Or, um...be separate. From you. For myself.” He wrinkled his nose as he finished rambling, closing his eyes briefly in obvious frustration.

Now _she_ was confused, and even more hurt. “What? Why?”

Fitz set down his soldering iron and looked down at the bench top for a long moment, seemingly marshaling his thoughts. “I lied when I said I’d never thought about having sex with you,” he said after a moment. Then he immediately blanched, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, waving a hand. “No, that’s--that’s not... that’s not the way to say it.” He blew out a shuddering breath before looking back up at her, his eyes pained. “You know you’re my best friend, yeah?”

Baffled, unsure how to take what he’d said, Jemma could only blink at him. “Honestly, I’m not so sure anymore after these past two weeks,” she said uncertainly. “I thought we could weather anything, but the way you’ve been acting has made me think that best friends--”

“You’re more than that,” he blurted.

Jemma stopped, gaping at him.

Fitz stared right back, looking surprised at his own outburst. Then he inhaled. “To me,” he added shakily. “You’re more than that. More than a--a friend.” He looked down again, his fingers worrying the edge of the tabletop. “When you were infected with the Chitauri virus, it was the first time I’d ever considered what my life would be like without you,” he said quietly. “And I realized I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any part of it. A world without you in it was just...I couldn’t bear the thought. You meant-- _mean_ \--too much to me.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Jemma whispered. His apology felt like a punch to the gut. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Fitz gave her a wry look before his shoulders slumped and he hung his head. “Come on, Simmons. You’ve never been interested in someone like me, and you’ve never…” He shook his head. “That bloody device...I’m angry, I’m _sick_ , because I was never--I wasn’t--it took what I wanted and _forced_ it on you.” When he looked up again, the anguish in his expression tugged at Jemma’s heart. “I’d rather never have been with you at all than live with--giving you no choice. I should never have...”

Suddenly, everything became clear. Jemma realized that Fitz was shutting her out not because he was angry with her, or because she had hurt him, but because he thought she didn’t want him--would never want him--and what they had been through had given him a cruel taste of something he thought he wasn’t allowed to have. What they’d shared that afternoon hadn’t been “just sex” for either of them, and hope bloomed in her chest. She had to tread lightly, though. Fitz’s feelings were raw; like a hurt animal, he might lash out if he wasn’t treated with care.

Feeling almost weightless with possibility, Jemma took an unsteady step toward him, followed by another, and another, until she was almost right next to him, an arm’s length away. “What if we could both choose?” she asked.

The look Fitz gave her was wary, almost afraid. “What?”

One of her hands crept up onto the lab bench, sliding toward him. “We couldn’t choose our first time together,” she said, “but we _can_ choose our second. What if we chose to be together because we wanted to, both of us, of our own free will?”

Instead of warming to the topic like she’d hoped, Fitz frowned, leaning away and shaking his head in dismay. “Jemma, no, I don’t want you to feel obligated, like you owe me or have to make something up to me--”

“I don’t!” Heartened by his use of her first name, Jemma closed the last space between them and dared to take one of his hands in hers. “Fitz, I can’t stop thinking about it. And not just the sex, which was, frankly, incredible, but--I keep thinking about what you might be like as--as _more_ , more than a friend, and I think about the way you treated me that night, and how lovely you were, and I--I want you. _All_ of you. In every way. As a friend, as a partner...as more.” She gave his hand a squeeze, her eyes pleading. “I want to try. If you do.”

Fitz studied her in silence for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. “You’re sure?” he asked, and the hoarseness of his voice belied just how seriously he was taking the whole thing.

Jemma nodded. “Very.” Then she looked down, laughing quietly. “I suppose it only took a life-threatening situation for each of us to realize how we felt.”

“It’s just--Jemma, you have to know--” She looked back up as Fitz shifted to take her hands in his, his expression earnest. “If we’re going to do this...I don’t know if I could go back.”

Jemma felt a lump rise in her throat as she looked into his eyes, seeing his hopes and fears reflected back at her.  If the fervency of the feelings thrumming through her whole body were any indication, she would be no more capable of going back to their ‘before’ than he.

“I know,” she whispered.

Resolve settled in Fitz’s eyes then and, his gaze never leaving her face, he slid off his seat and pulled her to him to press his lips to hers.

The kiss started out soft and exploratory, but quickly became firm and heated. Jemma curled her hand around Fitz’s shirt collar as she slid the other into his hair, and his arms wrapped around her back, snugging her flush against him. It was everything their kisses had been that day, passionate and longing, and Jemma let herself fall into him, hoping that in the near future they would be able to make new memories together.

It occurred to her how indecent they probably looked, especially as Fitz turned them to back her up against the lab bench, but she was finding it hard to care as he slipped his tongue past the seam of her lips to stroke hungrily over hers.

The clatter of feet on the spiral staircase and a muffled shriek had them jumping apart though, red-faced and struggling to catch their breath. They looked over to see Skye standing on the last step down, her hands clapped over her mouth, eyes wide as saucers.

“Sorry!” she yelped, her voice muffled by her hands. “Shit, sorry!”

“Oh, no, nothing to be sorry about, Skye,” Jemma spluttered, ducking her head, “we were just, ah--”

“--You didn’t see anything,” Fitz cut in, waving his hands. “Nothing, so we’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell--”

Skye dropped her hands away from her face, revealing a huge grin. “Nope, sorry, I gotta. Ward owes me twenty bucks.”

“What?!” Fitz and Jemma cried in unison.

Skye cringed. “We sorta made a bet? Over whether or not you two would get together over the whole bracelet thing? Ward said you guys wouldn’t because you were so oblivious that even sleeping together wouldn’t make you see the light, but _I_ know true love when I see it, so I totally knew you--” Realizing that they were both glaring at her, she stopped and pasted on a bright smile. “Does it make us terrible people that we made a bet over something that could have killed you?”

“I don’t know, Skye, did you make the bet before or _after_ the Rings came off?” Jemma deadpanned, crossing her arms.

“Yeah,” Fitz added sternly, mimicking her position, “was money involved while we were still in mortal peril, or no?”

Skye’s jaw dropped. “After!” she squawked, looking offended. “After. We’re not _complete_ monsters. And anyway, since I found you guys eating each other’s faces down here, I totally won and I am _not_ letting Ward live it down anytime soon.”

Jemma felt her cheeks flush again. “We were not eating each other’s faces,” she murmured, just as Fitz said, “That’s absolutely barbaric, Skye.”

“No, you really were,” Skye countered, smirking. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’ll do a little editing of the security camera footage in here so Coulson and May don’t see it.” She turned to head back up the stairs. “Try to keep it behind closed doors next time, alright, kids?”

Jemma took half a step forward. “Ah, Skye? Was there something we could help you with?”

“Nah, not really.” Her feet disappeared out of view, up the stairs. “Just wanted to see if you guys wanted anything for dinner.” They heard the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening and closing, and the lab fell into silence once again.

For a long moment, neither Fitz nor Jemma moved or spoke, both of them standing awkwardly while shooting each other furtive glances. Eventually, he sighed.

“Well,” he said, “there goes any hope we had of keeping this to ourselves.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “We live in extremely close quarters on a plane with a team of accomplished field agents and a world-renowned hacker. It was never going to be a secret.”

Fitz hummed. “Fair point.” When he didn’t say anything further, she looked over to find that he was watching her; their eyes met, and a slow, almost shy smile spread over his face. “So,” he murmured. “Us.”

“Us,” Jemma repeated, mirroring his smile back at him. She felt light as air, happier than she had in weeks, now that the weight of her worries and Fitz’s distance had been removed. Likewise, his gaze on her was warm, delighted, like the idea that she wanted to be with him was too good to be true. She very much looked forward to convincing him, and thought now was a good time to start. Stepping back into his space, she slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. “Do you really want to get the D.W.A.R.F.s finished tonight, or can I convince you to take a break?”

“I could probably be convinced,” Fitz replied, his eyes dropping to her mouth.

Jemma rolled her eyes again, even as her smile widened. He was too easy. “Ugh, Fitz,” she said, but pressed up to kiss him anyway, suppressing a shiver at the way he immediately leaned in and caressed her lips with his, drawing it out as long as he dared. She knew they were only creating more work for Skye, and open affection in the lab was not a habit they needed to get into, but perhaps it could be forgiven just this once.

Fitz looked slightly dazed when she finally pulled away. “Consider me convinced,” he said.

Jemma beamed. “I thought so. Come on, I’ll help you clean up.”

She got the case for the D.W.A.R.F.s while Fitz put away his tools and stored all the extra parts he had out; they had his bench cleared and neat in short order. They turned out the lights in the lab before leaving together, then paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you ready?” Fitz asked, nodding in the direction of the main cabin. When Jemma gave him a questioning look, he raised an eyebrow at her. “You said it yourself, Jemma. We live among spies. Coulson’s probably waiting on us with a lecture ready on Section 17.”

Jemma shook her head. “Oh please, I’d like to see them _try_ and enforce Section 17 on us. They know we work far better together. It wouldn’t make sense to split us up, especially now that we’re in the field. I’m not worried. As long as we have each other, we can get through anything.”

Fitz’s face softened. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Anything.” He took her hand and brought it up to drop a quick kiss against her knuckles, then nudged her back with his free hand. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

Smiling, Jemma turned to go up the stairs. Secure in the knowledge that she and Fitz were back on even ground, she felt ready to take on the world again--even if the world only turned out to be their overly-curious teammates. The Rings of Munuth could have had a disastrous effect on their relationship, and nearly had, but instead it had awoken her to feelings she hadn’t even known she had. She definitely would have chosen another way to go about realizing those feelings but, in the end, she knew she could come to terms with how things had gone because they had each other. And that connection was worth more than anything an alien device could create.

**Author's Note:**

> The text of the article that Fitz was reading comes from [this post](https://www.google.com/url?q=http://s3xlife.tumblr.com/post/8192573843/how-to-give-your-girl-a-mind-blowing-orgasm) on Tumblr.


End file.
